Bulletproof Love
by Evanna Adams
Summary: Written for Anja(supermishamiga on tumblr). :D She wanted a fic where Castiel got a tattoo. Basically, Castiel is acting weird weeks later after the angels falling fiasco. Dean finds that weird. Sam tries his best to stop Dean from over-reacting. Followed by a flashback to the weeks that followed the angels falling. Unbeta'd. I might reuse the premise in Three Men and...
1. Chapter 1

_Castiel was acting weird. Well, weirder than was expected. Sam said it was because he had recently become human and the emotions were overwhelming. That didn't explain the first couple of weeks, though. He had been borderline clingy then. Not expressively but refused to be left alone in a room, choosing to follow Dean or, if Dean wished to be alone (very rarely), Sam. _

_"No, dude, but why the other room. I mean, he won't even let me in!" Dean cried out, slamming a fist on the TV table. _

_"Dean!" Sam scowled. "No need to be dramatic… Just-" he took a deep breath as if trying to explain to a five year old why he couldn't enter parent's room at night. "Dean… It's been two months, alright? It's like growing up on fast forward. Consider him in his teenage years where he needs his privacy," Sam explained patiently. _

_"To do what?! Read porn? Masturbate?"_

_Sam scrubbed a hand over his face, sighing exasperatedly. _

_"I don't know, Dean," Sam said. _

_"Oh my God!" Dean said in disgust. _

_"What?" Sam asked, sharply. _

_"We're like his parents. And I'm his mom!" he squeaked. _

_"I did not need that image, Dean," Sam said, grimacing. "And, no, we are not his parents. We're his friends. Which means we'll stop interfering in his life when he needs his privacy. Okay?"_

_Dean grumbled, folding his arms._

_"Okay?" Sam said, louder. _

_"Yes. God damnit," Dean said, heading out the motel to take a long, _long_ drive in his Baby. _

"Cas!" Dean called, hauling Sam with him through the bushes.

"Dean, won't it be better-"

"Sam, I don't wanna hear it, okay? I'm taking you along. Abaddon might be after you," he said in a tone that ended all argument.

Sam fell silent at his side, trying his best to put minimum weight on Dean.

"CAS!" Dean called into the forest.

He knew Castiel was there. How did he know that… He blamed it on his gut instinct that he only preserved for the supernatural. If, even, Castiel was supernatural anymore. He highly doubted it.

"CASTIEL!" Dean bellowed.

"Dean." It was like a whisper of the wind and Dean would have thought he just heard it if Sam hadn't frozen up at his side.

Sharing a split second glance, the two hobbled over to the source of the sound, hunter instincts on full alert.

Castiel was on his knees in the middle of the clearing, tears streaking down his face and an angel with charred wings lying behind him, motionless. Castiel looked up to meet Dean's eyes. Dean's breath caught in his throat. The blue eyes looked lifeless.

"Cas?" he asked, softly.

Castiel looked so bedraggled, his coat askew and his hair windswept. He looked… Human, Dean realized with a jolt. Castiel looked away as though he had read Dean's though and was pained by them.

"Hey," Dean said, softly, letting Sam down on the ground.

Sam nodded towards Castiel.

"Cas," he said, softly, putting a hand on Castiel's shoulder, gingerly. Not wanting to scare him.

However, Castiel just leaned into the touch. More like fell into the touch, eyes closing. Dean caught him, his hands closing around Castiel's shoulder.

"Hey," he said, louder but still quiet enough. "Cas, look up, buddy."

Castiel did and Dean almost regretted his words. The eyes looked even worse from this close. They were bottomless pits, not filled with curiosity and wonder or anger and righteousness. They looked dead. On instinct, Dean cupped Castiel's cheek. Castiel's eyes fluttered close as he let out a sob.

"Dean," he said brokenly, fresh tears flowing down his cheeks.

Dean's heart clenched and he pulled Castiel to his chest. Castiel's hands closed around the lapels of Dean's coat, hanging on tightly. It was the first Dean had ever heard Castiel cry and he hated it. He never wanted to hear the muffled sobs against his chest.

Dean brushed his hand through Castiel's hair.

"Hey, Cas, listen to me, man," he murmured, gently caressing his hair. "We're gonna get you home and we'll be fine, alright? Sammy, you and I. I'll take care of you, okay? I'll take care of you both." His voice broke at the end.

He buried his nose in Castiel's hair, whose sobs were wracking his entire body now.

Dean stayed that way for a while, breathing in Castiel's scent and still caressing his hair. Castiel's sobs were subsiding.

Dean let him go when he felt Castiel shuffling in his arms.

Dean raised Castiel's face to look into his eyes, by his chin. They were bloodshot and still shining like blue beacons on his red and blotched face.

Dean sighed and let Castiel's face go. "I'm sorry," he murmured, quietly.

Castiel nodded, looking away, but didn't say anything.

"Let's go," Dean said, getting up.

He held out a hand for Castiel who gratefully took it, leaning heavily on Dean's arm. He seemed exhausted. Dean heaved them over to where Sam was still kneeling on the ground, coughing.

"Come on, Sammy," Dean said, thickly, bending over, careful not to let Castiel fall.

Sam leaned against Dean's other side and together, the three hobbled over to where the Impala was parked, shining in the moonlight.

After helping Sam clean up and putting him to bed, Dean returned to his room where he had left Castiel sitting on one of the chairs. He was still sitting there.

"Cas, I told you to go to sleep," Dean said, opening the cupboard to take out his clothes. "I'll set up another room tomorrow; I'll go sleep on the couch now."

He entered the bathroom, leaving the door open but the light switched off. He changed behind the door but continued talking to Castiel, telling him about one time when Sam had thought it would be a good idea to wash his father's guns in the bathtub with cheap motel bath salts. The guns had still been loaded, though the safety was turned on. Dean had been shouted at for three hours followed by three days of being cold shouldered by his father, but he left that part out.

He felt as though if he stopped talking, the thin wire of normalcy would break and everything would fall apart. Hadn't everything fallen apart, already, though…

He managed to grunt and spit out a few words as he quickly brushed his teeth.

"You know, when Sammy was four, we went on this pack mule ride to the bottom of the Grand Canyon," Dean started, taking out sweats and a shirt for Castiel. "My mule kept you know, letting go. Farting. All over the place and I was the laughing stock for like a month, man."

Dean reddened at his choice of story but he was grappling through his brain to keep the conversation up.

Handing the clothes to Castiel, "You need help?" he asked, hoping Castiel didn't.

Much to Dean's relief, Castiel shook his head but pulled the clothes close, hugging them.

"Hey," Dean said softly, putting his palm on Castiel's cheek.

Castiel looked up.

"We'll figure this out, okay?"

He nodded, looking away again.

Castiel, it figured, was a shifty human.

Dean sighed, but pulled away and started to retract from the room, keeping a close eye on Castiel.

Just as Dean was almost out, a soft whisper of his name stopped him. As before, if he hadn't seen Castiel's lips move, he would have thought it was just his mind playing tricks.

Castiel looked up to meet Dean's eyes. Everything was clear. Dean realized that it always had been. He walked back to Castiel.

"Change your clothes," he said, pushing the trench coat off of Castiel's shoulders. "I'll be right here."

Castiel gulped visibly and stepped away from Dean. After a moment of thought, he vanished into the bathroom. Dean heard a bit of scuffling.

"You sure you don't need help?" Dean called, standing outside the door.

There was a yelp and a muffled thump. Without thinking, Dean opened the door. Castiel was on the floor, his pajamas tangled in his legs. He was, thankfully, wearing white boxers. Dean chuckled slightly at the affronted look Castiel was giving the pair of pajamas.

Dean bent to help Castiel up. He kneeled to untangle the pajamas and pull them up Castiel's legs. Dean was worried about the sexual aspect of him being on his knees in front of Castiel but what scared him the most was the domesticity in his act. How comfortable he felt, though his cock disagreed.

Dean got up, hurriedly, almost getting a head rush.

"Let's go," he said, trying to hide his embarrassment.

Dean spent time fluffing, _fluffing(!)_, his pillows, waiting for Castiel to lie down but he just stood, head hanging.

"Come on, Cas," Dean coaxed, gently.

"I don't sleep."

"Cas, come on… You know… How it is, man… Sorry…"

"It's not your fault."

"It's not yours either."

Castiel didn't reply. Dean sighed and sank down onto the bed.

"Cas, I told you. We'll figure it out tomorrow. Please, come on, now," Dean cajoled.

Castiel looked up. Dean's heart clenched again. He looked so lost.

Dean held out his hand to Castiel, who took it and sat down on the bed too. Dean lied back down, slowly. Castiel followed, not breaking the eye contact. They lay there facing each other, hand in hand. It was much too domestic and feeling-sy for Dean's taste but he couldn't bring himself to stop.

His Cas. His angel. Now, fallen. But, if asked, Castiel would always be Dean's angel. He knew it sounded sappy as Hell but the moment required it. Castiel's eyes had gained emotions. Granted he looked lost and scared, it was something and Dean was willing to hold onto it for the night.

It was Castiel who broke first. Letting out a strangled sob, he moved to crash his head into Dean's chest. His hand left Dean's and fingers grasped Dean's shirt. Dean pulled Castiel close, wrapping his arms around his lean form.

Dean struggled to say something. He knew Castiel wasn't crying but he was shuddering in Dean's arms. His wide, unblinking eyes, staring in the darkness. Dean couldn't see them but he knew. Somehow he knew that Castiel had his eyes open and his lips were a thin white line against his pale features.

_You're okay? _Of course, Castiel wasn't. He was not supposed to be. This was his time to wallow in self-pity.

_You'll be okay? _Dean couldn't promise that. Dean would try, that was for sure but promising Castiel that he could be fine. Wasn't there enough proof that it never was.

_I'll take care of you. _Dean had already said that. It would become patronizing now. Castiel was no child. He was strong. He could take of himself if he needed to. He was a warrior and a strategist. He still was, no matter what Castiel chose to believe.

With a start, Dean realized that he didn't have to say anything. Saying anything would break the peace of the moment. Castiel needed to mull it over. He just required a reassuring presence.

Dean stared at the guns decorating the wall, until he heard the small kitten snores that Castiel was making. Dean smiled to himself. Within moments, he fell asleep to the same sound.

When Dean woke up next morning, he was a little disoriented. A little was an understatement. He never woke up beside anyone. Not since Lisa. Before freaking out, he recollected the past few days. He opened his eyes to Castiel's upturned face. He was scrunching his eyes; obviously not asleep.

"Hey," Dean said, his voice raspy.

Castiel's eyes flew open with a start.

"Hello, Dean," he replied, trying to smile but it ended up looking like a grimace. He gave up and looked away.

"Morning, Cas. How long you been awake?"

Castiel blinked furiously. "I-I just woke up."

"You're a horrible liar. You should have woken me up."

"You never seem to sleep this peacefully." Castiel looked up to meet Dean's eyes.

Dean took a deep breath. To hide his discomfort, he quipped, "Oh, you creep. You admitted to watching me sleep."

Castiel frowned slightly, _endearingly. _

Dean cleared his throat and sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"I'll go freshen up." _Freshen up?_ "And then you can go while I make breakfast. I'll put out some clothes for you."

Castiel nodded his assent, straightening up too.

After brushing his teeth, Dean found Castiel looking at Dean and his mother's picture, intently.

Dean went to stand beside him.

"She was… Beautiful. Like the sun. Dad used to leave for work and mom was a housewife. She used to play with me. I heard them once… Talking about how I'd feel threatened with another kid in the house. But I was so happy… Another friend to play with, I used to think. She was happy when she realized that. Our perfect family…"

Castiel didn't reply. Dean was worried that he had said too much. He obviously didn't talk about feelings. Did excerpts from childhood count as feelings?

Castiel interrupted his internal monologue by replacing the picture and turning around. "Thank you," he murmured; a small almost-non-existent smile on his lips and a warm palm on Dean's shoulder.

Before Dean could reply, he was walking towards the bathroom. Slowly, Dean moved and started collecting an old pair of jeans and a comfortable shirt. He fished out new boxers from behind his closet. Setting them cleanly on a chair placed outside the bathroom door, he went to make breakfast.

Over the weeks, Dean and Sam together managed to make Castiel smile exactly fifty seven times. Dean kept count. Of course, keeping count wasn't 'cute' like Sam insisted. He just cared about his friend. Sam kept giving them weird looks whenever Dean would serve Castiel breakfast or change the channel for him. Dean was awarded with a bitchface once when Dean changed the tape in the car for Castiel.

Sam and Dean had an ongoing war about whose food Castiel would like best. Dean figured out that besides burgers(Dean's and the third diner when they entered into the town nearby), Castiel loved thick fries(Dean's), omelet(Sam's), scrambled eggs with bacon(Dean's), honey grilled chicken with salad(much to Dean's chagrin and Sam's delight), key lime pie(Sam's) and apple pie(Dean's). Dean was winning with four to three. Sam was going to up his ante and cook mutton casseroles for dinner. Castiel didn't like mutton for a fact but Dean wasn't going to tell Sam that.

Dean had taken Castiel on various rides in the car. Actually, Castiel had asked to come before Dean could even open his mouth. It seemed as though he hated being left alone. Except for during bathing which Dean was thankful for. Castiel followed Dean wherever he went. He used to be awkward at first, moving shiftily to not make it obvious. Realizing, Dean had started asking Castiel to come with him on his own. That was the first grin Dean had seen on the ange-no, Castiel's face. His heart had flipped, curiously, at the sight. He was getting these desires to do things like kiss Castiel's nose.

They continued to sleep in one bed. When they lay down to sleep, they faced the opposite walls still sought with embarrassment but they always woke up in the morning with their limbs tangled and their faces a couple of inches apart. Dean didn't have the strength to be embarrassed anymore. Secretly, he loved walking up next to someone.

Today, Sam had appointed them to get groceries for his complicated mutton casserole. Castiel had grumbled slightly about the mutton part(Dean had made sure Sam didn't hear him) but as always accompanied Dean to the store. Generally it took Dean maximum fifteen minutes to get what he needed: basic sustenance, eggs, bacon, porn magazines, pie and beer. But with Castiel, it took at least an hour. Castiel loved making sure that the fruits and vegetables were organic and the meat; the right choice. Dean had to stop him twice from breaking the eggs to see if they were alright.

With an excuse to protect Castiel's innocence, he had stopped picking up the porn magazines even though he had found Castiel willing him to pick one. Castiel was an ex-angel after all. Dean couldn't expose him to this.

Castiel loved 'popcorn'. Dean had incessantly teased him for misunderstanding the marshmallow label, 'Puffcorn', and calling it popcorn. Now, they had a whole area in the kitchen cordoned off for Castiel's popcorn. Nobody else was allowed to eat it, except a few for Dean.

Dean picked up actual popcorn as well. They had to show Castiel a proper movie too, full with popcorn fights. Not popcorn with a demon-curing creepy video.

Returning home, they listened to a tape that Castiel had picked. It was all of Mary and John's (and, consequently, Dean's) favourite tracks by Led Zeppelin. (See that, Sammy? Castiel had good taste in music.)

When they reached home, Sam was pacing in the hallway, deep in thought and jumped when he saw them. He strode towards Castiel and put his huge palms on Castiel's shoulders. Castiel looked confused and a little petrified.

"There, there, Aunt May, what's up?" Dean asked, taking a step closer to Castiel. He was pleased to note that the tension left Castiel's shoulders at the proximity.

"I found them," Sam said, grinning cornily.

The maximum of the angels had fallen around Castiel that night fateful night. The next morning they had checked to find a huge number of angels dead. Castiel had asserted to clean 'his mess up'. Dean and Sam had obviously helped bury the five dozen angels. Castiel had cried in Dean's arms that night, again, but he hadn't cried anymore following that. Castiel had informed that there were a lot more angels than just five dozen. They had followed the news closely to find that only the area around Castiel had had a large rainfall of angels. The others had been scattered and let go off as lone meteors streaking the sky. The dead angels seen had been accounted as freak accidents. A lot of the places where the angels had struck had large depressions with nothing inside it. It led them to believe that there were angels still out there; alive.

After explaining the situation to Garth, they had gotten him to guide the fallen angels to safe houses, which were basically either the hunter's own or family homes and the homes of the people the hunters had helped. Castiel had kept in constant contact with a few of them; the ones who still believed that his heart was in the right place or the ones who didn't know it was Castiel's fault(which it wasn't).

'Them' referred to the group Archangels who had fallen. Archangels like Gabriel and Balthazar, before them, had special powers. Some that transcended their Grace. Not every Archangel could tap into those powers. Castiel believed that, if nothing else, they would have found a safe place together. He hypothesized that the Archangels would have, at least, chosen to fall close by. They could help Castiel get Heaven back.

"They are in New York."


	2. Party In The USA

**A/n: I GOT A WEEK LATE! I'm so so sorry! Now I have vacation! I'll write everyday!**

* * *

The trio had been driving for half a day now. Castiel was tapping his foot against the floor of the car again which meant he needed to use the bathroom. Since the first time Castiel had realized that he had bodily needs now, he had been perplexed. Dean had felt close to harassed as he had stood outside the bathroom shouting instructions to a very confused Castiel.

"Cas, you can just tell me, you know," Dean said, pulling up at a gas station.

The second Dean stopped the car, Castiel bolted towards the bathroom stalls.

Dean chuckled, filling up his Baby with gas. He gestured to Sam to get them supplies from the store.

Castiel came back, looking relieved and stood beside Dean. Dean chuckled slightly at the sight. Castiel shoved at him, heartlessly but smiled inspite of himself.

"You have to admit, you have a problem with your… Bodily functions," Dean said, giving Castiel a sideways glance.

Satisfied with the amount of petrol, he pulled the nozzle out and set it back. He heard Castiel sigh and turned to meet his eyes.

"I undermined your struggles," Castiel said, looking apologetic.

"Dude, if you think peeing is a struggle, wait till you get blue balls right before a hunt."

"Blue balls?" Castiel asked, tilting his head.

Explaining blue balls to an ex-angel of the Lord? Awkward… Dean looked away, pretending to be deep in thought.

"Uh… Y'know… When you… Uh… Need to… Um… Relieve… Your-Sammy! Did you get Pringles?" Dean had never been happier to see his brother. Okay, that was a lie… But still. He was happy to see his moose of a brother.

"Dean, you hate Pringles. Your hand gets stuck in the box," Sam replied, looking at Dean, disapprovingly.

"Hey, they still taste great," Dean replied, opening the door to the driver's seat and sliding in.

Sam rolled his eyes before settling into the passenger seat. "You're an idiot," he said.

A beat later, Castiel entered the car too. Dean took off, hoping Castiel wouldn't ask the question, especially not in front of Sam. Fortunately, Castiel kept his mouth shut and stared out the window.

Sometimes when Castiel was staring out the window that way, he looked sad. Dean usually cracked a stupid joke and Castiel would smile. Just a little twitch of lips, but it was something and it pleased Dean to no end. Dean would catch Castiel looking at him, from the side view mirror, and the fondness in his eyes would make Dean's heart clench inexplicably. It had just been half a day…

They would reach New York only after the next day's afternoon, with a stop for the night.

The woman was bloated and dirty. She was wearing stained and stinking clothes, a child sleeping in her arms. There was a giant mole on her left cheek and a permanent scowl adorned her dark features.

Even though he was to find beauty in every one of his Father's creations, Castiel chose to hide behind Sam's huge form. When Sam turned around to look at Castiel and exposing him in the process, Castiel frowned and moved to stand behind Dean who immediately stepped forwards, wordlessly understanding Castiel's motive.

"Hi," Dean said with a half-hearted try at a charming smile. "Can we get, uh…" He trailed off, turning to look at his companions.

"Two rooms?" Sam asked both of them.

Seeing Castiel's panicked look, he shook his head and turned around to ask for one room with two beds.

"I'll get a sleeping bag from Baby and you two go up and get settled in," Dean said, handing the keys to Sam.

He turned on his heel and to the Impala before either of them could interrupt him and possibly refuse.

Some things never changed. One of them was Castiel sneaking up on people. Dean had half a mind to do this to Castiel when he could manage it. But right now, he had barely managed to get his head severed off by the trunk of his own car.

"Son of a bitch! Cas don't do that," he griped, whipping around to face Castiel.

"Dean, you don't have to do this," Castiel said, his eyes cast down. "I'll sleep in the sleeping bag or-or we could take the same bed."

"Cas," Dean said, willing Castiel to look up. When he eventually did, Dean continued, "It's alright. I like this sleeping bed. It has a better mattress than the motel ones. Don't deprive me of my fluffy mattress, man."

Castiel wasn't impressed. He didn't even crack a smile. He looked even more remorseful if that was possible. It made Dean want to do things he had never thought he'd want to do. Shaking out of his reverie, he turned away to pull out the moldy sleeping bag.

"Come on, Cas. We might get lucky. Sammy might want to take the sleeping bag," he said, shutting the trunk and walking towards the motel.

He didn't turn to see whether Castiel was impressed this time. His guess was that Castiel wasn't.

Castiel wasn't impressed. He was a liability, though the brothers were too nice to let him know that. It was enough that they let him stay with them, taught him things and made him food. But sleeping on the floor for him? That was unacceptable. He wouldn't have it.

He led the way as they climbed the stairs to their floor. Stopping a floor up, he whirled around to face Dean.

"You won't sleep on the floor for me," Castiel let out in one breath.

Dean almost walked into him. He bit his upper lip, processing Castiel's words. A confused frown followed up.

"What?" he asked, stupidly.

"You won't-" Castiel scrubbed a hand over his face. "Please don't sleep in the sleeping bag on my account. Let me take it."

"Oh come on, Cas! I can sleep on it. Look it's perfectly awes-"

"Dean, I don't want your pity!" he blurted out.

He snapped his mouth shut the second after the words were out. The darkness seeping into Dean's eyes was warning enough. Castiel straightened under Dean's gaze, holding his chin out. He was, no, had been a warrior and he would not be scared of Dean's glare, no matter how powerful.

"We don't pity you, you son of a bitch," Dean said, lowly, crowding Castiel's space. "You're our friend! I thought we had that figured out. If you would open your feathery brain for five full minutes, you'd see that we have never pitied you! We've supported you."

Without waiting for a reply, Dean pushed past Castiel.

Castiel stood there a couple of seconds, staring after Dean. Biting his trembling lip, he followed the steps up. Reaching on the third floor, he realized he had no idea where his room was and his mobile (Dean had gotten him one a week ago; he loved the Tom Cat app) in his duffle. He cursed himself for making such a stupid mistake. He climbed another floor and Dean was standing at the top step, staring furiously at the mid-flight landing. Noticing Castiel treading carefully upstairs, he turned around without a word and waited for Castiel outside the room number 408. He opened the door with enough time for Castiel to catch it open.

Dean gruffly handed Sam the sleeping bag and vanished into the small bathroom.

Sam turned to look at Castiel with raised eyebrows.

"Ah…" Castiel drawled, eyes drifting away to stare at the painting on the wall.

Sam got the point and started to set the sleeping bag between the beds. He pulled the pillows from the bed, which had a gratuitous amount of pillows.

Castiel preferred to stand there, still staring at the painting. It was of two men. Both were holding drawn knives pointing at the other and with the palms of their free hands pressed against each other's wounds in a sympathetic, almost caring, way. It was relevant somehow, Castiel knew but he wasn't willing to delve into it. There was enough on his mind.

Done with the bed, Sam sat down on a chair with his laptop opening, almost automatically as Sam touched it.

"You can sit down, Cas," Sam said between the clacking of keys.

Castiel nodded, not that Sam was looking. He settled into the chair with a huff. Nervously, he pulled at the sleeve of his plaid shirt Sam had gotten for him a couple of weeks ago. Dean had gotten him a duffle in the first week of his introduction to humanity, with basic things like boxers, shirts, jeans, a dagger and a shotgun. He had learnt how to operate the shotgun in the batcave's shooting area and almost instinctively knew how to use a dagger, obviously with his experience of the angel blade. Sam had looked impressed and Dean; proud, which made unnamable emotions rise up in Castiel's throat. Over the weeks with Dean, Sam, Kevin and even Garth's help, Castiel's duffle had filled up with books, another shotgun, clothes and a rather nice looking leather journal chipped in by Garth. Castiel filled the pages each night from the vast serves of knowledge that he possessed. It was a relief that his experiences and knowledge hadn't been washed away after his Fall.

"I'm taking the sleeping bag," Dean announced, coming out of the bathroom.

"Dean-"

"No 'Dean's, Cas," he growled, plopping down on the sleeping bag.

He misjudged the height and sat down hard with a huff, making his affronted glare seem funnier than it was intended to be. Sam chuckled quietly.

"Dean, you are not the one making decisions here!" Cas said.

Dean looked relieved at not being picked on for a minute before a stormy expression took its place. Before he could say anything, Sam stood up quickly to stand between the two.

"Shut up both of you," he said in calm voice. "Dean pull the covers down and I'll grab the pillows. All three of us are sleeping on the floor. Cas, you can take the sleeping bag if you want."

"No, Dean initially decided on it. Dean you take it," Castiel said, shaking his head.

"Cas, you take it," Dean persuaded.

"Christ. You two are grounded. Literally. Both of you on the ground. Dean, the covers," Sam said, raising his hands as a warning.

Dean and Castiel shut up. Dean moved to strip off the covers off the beds and lay them on the floor. While Castiel helped him spread them on the floor, Sam got the pillows to throw them at the top.

"Sam, you should take the sleeping bag," Castiel said, when they were done.

The three stood and stared at their handiwork. Both beds were empty and all three of them couldn't fit onto the two covers spread on the floor, unless they wished to snuggle together. One look at Dean's face, and Sam sighed as he dragged his feet to the sleeping bag.

"Goodnight guys," Sam called from between the beds.

"Good night," they echoed, from the window side, each lying at the farther edge of the covers.

Sam woke up first, disoriented by the towering beds over him. Sitting up, he realized what exactly smelled so moldy. It was the sleeping bag. Rubbing his eyes sleepily, he sat up.

Sam knew that there was something between his brother and Castiel. He had known it from the first time they had stared at each other for a long time. Castiel was different; innocent. He was a good influence on Dean. He was what could qualify as Dean's best friend. Sometimes it seemed as though there was more, under those layers the two hid themselves under. Sam was nothing, if not a good brother and like a good brother, he refused to push them further. With Dean, it was a thin thread. If Sam pushed them together, Dean would run and if he pushed them apart (to make them realize how 'profound' their bond was), they would both run towards each other but with a five feet lateral distance between them.

Today was one of the mornings when Sam wished he could knock some sense into the two of them.

Castiel was lying on his side, facing Dean. Dean, who had slept closest to the air conditioner, had his face pressed into Castiel's chest and arm thrown around him. Castiel was no better. He had one hand threaded in Dean's hair and the other lying on Dean's shoulder. Sam guessed there was Castiel's hand shaped scar right under where his hand presently lay. Chuckling to himself, he climbed over the bed closest to them and crawled to the bedside table.

Clicking a picture on Dean's phone, he set it as the wallpaper to make sure Dean would see it. He grinned at the picture for a couple of minutes and moved only when Dean started to stir. 'Move' was an understatement. He practically flew to the bathroom, instantly switching the shower on.

Dean was a man who loved sex. He loved sex and he wasn't afraid to admit it. He appreciated both genders but the scales tipped towards women for him. From his teenage years, Dean had stuck to girls, except that one time with Rhonda Hurley. She had insisted on making him wear pink satiny panties and wore a strap on herself. That had been one Hell of an adventurous night for Dean. He had really liked it.

That is when he had figured it out that sexuality was not a straight line. It was rather a squiggly one. But still shadowed by his father's expectations, he had refused to enjoy the same gender, not even looking at them. He got by, well enough. The women who came his way were hot and easy. Just how he liked them.

Like everything else though, Castiel had upturned his life. He had single handedly changed his views and wants. Of course, he'd never accept this, if asked. To him, Castiel was innocent and clueless and just Goddamn adorable. Dean would never ask something of him that he couldn't give. He knew Castiel would follow him wherever he went, and follow every order given. But this was driving a car off the line instead of just a toe. Dean wasn't going to screw with it. Or with Castiel. Not without his explicit permission. Which meant Castiel would have to make the first move. Castiel was clueless, which is where they completed a circle.

Dean was content. Content with what he had with Castiel. Castiel was here with him, had no intentions or means of leaving and Dean was glad with making Castiel happy. There were times he wondered that if he found his grace, would Castiel leave them? He hoped to leave a good impression on Castiel if he did choose to leave.

Dean's pants rustled against the overhanging tablecloth as he tapped his foot against the foot rest. Sam looked ecstatic about something.

"Dude, who gave you Lucky Charms this morning?" Dean asked, annoyed by Sam's secretive smile.

"What?" Sam asked, feigning obliviousness.

"Something's up with you," Dean noted.

"You do seem rather bright this morning," Castiel said, shifting in his borrowed FBI uniform.

Sam shrugged. "It's good to be finally out on the road again."

Dean eyed him suspiciously but Sam didn't look up from his menu. He was so distracted by Sam's grin that he didn't even flirt with the busty waitress. It had been days since they had ventured into civilization and Dean wanted to make the best of it, but damn Sam. He realized that the colder you were to the waitress, the earlier you got the food, so that you could be shooed away. Dean would have to keep that in mind

"Hey, Dean, what's the time?" Sam asked in the middle of eating a salad.

"Check your watch, dude," Dean said through his mouth filled with burger. He had sauce running down his chin.

Castiel picked up a napkin and held it out for Dean. Dean took with a smile. Sam rolled his eyes.

"I'm not wearing a watch," he said, breaking their staring contest.

"Sammy, I didn't buy you a phone for this day."

"I got the phone with my own money!"

"Sam, we don't have our own money."

"Alright, with Steve Evans money. Would you just please tell me the time?"

"Lazy ass," Dean grumbled, switching on his phone and choking on a bite of his burger.

He doubled over coughing, and tears streaming down his face. He looked up, blurrily. Castiel was giving him a concerned and rather adorable look while Sam looked conflicted between laughing his ass off or offering Dean water. He didn't have to; Castiel got there first and, even, patted Dean's back.

Gulping down some water, Dean slammed the glass down on the table and glared at Sam. The right choice would be to storm off the table but they had a long day in front of him and not many pit stops, if he could help it. He settled with glowering at Sam who just offered an innocent smile.

Castiel ignored the brother's mental talk, too used to it to bother. He sipped his coffee, looking peaceful for a man who might find his brothers and sisters today. Dean mentally berated himself at the thought. He had never bothered asking Castiel how he was. He had been suicidal before this fiasco, there wasn't much guessing to be done as to how he must be feeling now. Forgetting the mission of glaring down his brother, he took to watching Castiel eat, thoughtful.

Sam cleared his throat, making the two men look up. He didn't look up, focusing on his food. Dean reddened. He must have blatantly been staring at Castiel proving Sam's point with the picture. (Though what was the point?) He glared at Sam's bangs hanging over his face as he dug through his salad. Fucking salad eating moose-face tall idiot of a brother.

Dean inhaled the last of his fries and started to bug the other two to eat faster so they could move forwards. Castiel ignored him and Sam scowled as he chewed his salad.

Fifteen minutes and a disgruntled waitress with no tip later, they found themselves heading towards New York.

They sat in relative silence, Dean's classic rock playing in the background. Sam could tune it out and Castiel liked it. All three of them drowned in their thoughts, looking out the windows at the wilderness.

Entering New York, Dean insisted on turning on the radio. There was supposed to be quality radio in New York.

"Put on a Classic rock channel, Sammy."

Sam fiddled with the radio.

"I hopped off the plane at L.A.X.  
With a dream and my cardigan  
Welcome to the land of fame excess,  
Am I gonna fit in?"

Sam turned around to look at Dean, his eyes wide. They continued to stare at each other, before breaking into laughter.

"I don't understand this reference."

They just laughed harder. Dean broke first and started to sing along with the song in mock falsetto. Sam joined in a second later.

For the first time in a long time, Dean and Sam entered a city in peals of laughter.

* * *

**A/n: This chapter was initially supposed to be the last but then the archangel nation attacked.  
Then it was supposed to have New York as well. In the end it is mostly a filler, in my opinion with cute cuddling. ;)  
Next chapter will have plot.**


	3. New York

Summary: Dean and Castiel take New York.

* * *

Notes: So, remember the part in the last chapter where Dean was teaching Cas to pee? Yeah, that was actually by my best friend .com i.e. Marina. She's awesome. I could have edited the last chapter but I made a mistake by not mentioning it while posting and I wanted everyone to know.

* * *

Chapter Text

The high on which the three had entered the city, ended when they located the three crudely filled pits in the earth. The police had cordoned off the area that nestled between the water and the trees. It was rather beautiful, if Sam was asked and somewhat ironically located at the edge of the Hunter Island. It had been a long walk through the forest to here. Dean had grumbled all along the way and had convinced Sam fifteen times that they were lost, even though they had a police officer's GPS with them. Sam had ended up smacking Dean with a moving branch, totally 'accidentally'.

The breeze ruffled the yellow tape tied to the trees around the three pits. Dean and Sam were questioning the sole police officer who was still there after two days, while Castiel looked around. He said that they had no idea what happened there. A jogger had reported the incident and they still had no lead as to what could have caused this. She told them that the pits were empty when she saw them but by the time the police got there they had been filled again. On excavation, they had found nothing in the dirt so they had unanimously filled the pits again which is why they seemed disturbed.

The man, Officer Paul Wilkinson, was looking at the brothers as they wordlessly conversed with each other. He was a young officer; athletic with floppy black hair which looked like they hadn't been combed since days and his uniform was crumpled and disheveled. The buttons on his shirt were tucked in the wrong holes so there was one unoccupied button at the top and one unoccupied hole at the bottom and pants were buttoned up an inch too high on his waist. His black eyes, rimmed with tiredness, bore into Dean's when he turned to look at him.

Before Dean could object though, he started speaking.

"I'm just on duty to take these yellow tapes away, officers," he told them, a knowing glint still in his eyes. "I still can't believe that the Homeland Security is interested in these three random pits."

"Well, we pick our battles," Dean informs him, a tight smile on his face.

The boy nodded. "Are we done here?"

"Yes," Sam answered, signaling Castiel to join them.

Castiel shook his head, morosely. The officer turned on his heel and got on with his job. The trio started to make their way back but strangely coordinated they stopped in a clearing, away from the officer's ears.

"They're gone," Dean stated the obvious.

"Thanks, Sherlock," Sam said, rolling his eyes.

"BBC Sherlock or Elementary Sherlock?"

"The one that Arthur Conan Doyle killed."

Dean grimaced at him. Sam grinned, victoriously.

Dean turned around to look at Castiel who was staring at the pits as though they would answer him. He put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. Castiel looked up, his face blanking away the expression.

"You okay?" Dean asked, lowly.

Castiel nodded and promptly turned away. Dean frowned at his back.

"Well," Sam interrupted. "I think we should research further. Where can they be, Cas?"

"If I'd known, I would have told you in the first place," he murmured a little bitterly.

"No, I mean-"

"I know what you mean," Castiel said. "I'm sorry," he added, turning back to face them. He sighs, dancing on the balls of his feet.

He's wearing his trench coat again, over his Homeland Security suit.

"These are not the only ones, obviously. More archangels would have fallen… The ones I didn't kill at least." He took a deep breath and looked away into the distance, at the trees swaying in the breeze.

Dean patted his shoulder.

Castiel ignored him. "We have to look for patterns," he said. "There have to be more who fell together. But the problem is that they would have moved too. Demons know the power they hold. They won't stay put for long."

"But those guys have been up there for centuries, they won't be inconspicuous," Sam offered.

Castiel nodded slowly, biting his lip. "They'll be unable to…" He scrubbed a hand over his face.

It struck Dean how human Castiel had become. These little habits he'd been developing. Most of them were a mix of Dean and Sam's habits. He realized a second too late that Sam is looking intently at him as he stared at Castiel twitch his foot, incessantly.

"What?" he asked Sam, a defensive note to his tone.

"Nothing," Sam said, sighing and shaking his head.

"So, we look for patterns that the archangels are stup-"

"Naïve," Sam interrupted, flailing and making the Dean-don't-be-stupid-THINK-OF-THE-CHILDREN face.

Dean knew to replace 'CHILDREN' with 'CAS'. Dean huffed a breath and nodded at him.

"Naïve," he corrected himself, dramatically.

Sam rolled his eyes at him. "You're saying?"

"We look for patterns. Which means research. Which means you both become BFFs. Which means I'm off to a New York bar," Dean declared, waggling his eyebrows.

Sam huffed a laugh. "Only after you drop Cas and me at the library."

"Actually," Castiel interjected. "I would like to accompany Dean to… Uh, look around the city." He looked nervous, ready to jump out of his skin. "Only if you don't mind, that is," he adds, quickly, looking at Dean intensely.

Dean's face breaks out in a huge grin. "Of course, man. We'll have so much fun," he promises, throwing an arm across Castiel's shoulders. "You get a cab," he throws at Sam, leading Castiel forward on the trail.

Castiel smiles, softly at Dean listening intently as Dean tells him about the last time they visited New York and how they ran into Robert Di Niro.

"Oh Cas, I have so many places to take you to," Dean exclaimed.

"You do?" Castiel looked astounded.

"Yeah, man," Dean said, shrugging as he reddened at the intensity of Castiel's gaze. "You've never been here, have you?"

Castiel shook his head. "Not without purpose and not after the eighteenth century."

"Nerd," Dean remarked.

Castiel squinted his eyes at him, unable to grasp the concept. Dean rolled his eyes, sighing.

"So, you like burgers, right?" Dean asked, grinning.

Castiel nodded, enthusiastically. "Especially yours."

"We'll get you something even better."

Leaving a harried Sam to fend for himself, Dean drove down the Park Drive and took a couple of back roads and shortcuts to avoid the toll roads but he did pay the toll on the Robert F. Kennedy Bridge just for the aesthetic value and because Castiel liked bridges.

All along the way, Dean pointed out things that he liked and Castiel looked enraptured. Even as a kid, Sam had never paid such attention to every word he said. Castiel honored his opinion though he held strong to his own. Dean liked that about him.

Taking a left at Lexington Avenue, he got out of the car. He walked around to Castiel and fixed his tie like he had so many years ago. He smiled and patted Castiel's shoulder after he was done.

"Now, we are going to do something very, very illegal," Dean informed Castiel in a low tone.

But Castiel was not looking at him. He had his head thrown back, staring at the top of the building in front of him. His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. Dean licked his lips, unconsciously at the sight.

"The Chrysler Building," Castiel breathed, tilting his head back to look at Dean with wonderment that made Dean feel extremely hot in his suit.

Fixing the collar of his own suit, he cleared his throat, looking away.

"Yeah, weren't you as tall as it or something?" Dean murmured, his cheeks heating up.

"You remembered," Castiel whispered, smiling at Dean and clasping his arm for a second, right over his mark.

It wasn't a question, Dean realized, staring at Castiel's back as he entered the building. Jolting into action, Dean followed him inside the lobby. It was huge and the first thing that hit him was the mural on the ceiling. It probably told a story that Dean was sure as Hell not interested in. He marched on forward to the right.

He looked at the list of people at every floor. Looking around carefully, he trailed his finger down from the highest floor, looking for the most viable option. He started moaning the second he saw the right opening, pressing a palm over his right cheek.

"James," he called, moaning loudly. "My tooth hurts too much."

"What?" Castiel spluttered. "But-but-"

"Get me on the sixty-third floor to Dr. Grey. Oh, God!"

The receptionist came skittering towards him. "Sir, are you okay?"

"Do I look okay?" he shouted.

"My friend is in a lot of pain," Castiel started into action.

Dean saw something click behind his eyes and he knew that Castiel had caught on to his plan.

"But, sir, I'm sorry. Dr. Grey won't see anyone without an appointment," she apprised, calmly.

"Ma'am, we are from the Homeland Security," Castiel told her, flashing his badge.

The right side up, Dean noticed proudly. He hid his smirk behind his hand as he groaned loudly.

"Sir, if it's not too much trouble, may I check it up with your superiors and Dr. Grey to see if he's available?" she asked, holding a hand out for his badge.

"Definitely, ma'am. Wouldn't expect any less," Castiel said, graciously. He turned to Dean and tugged him onto the plush couches.

Dean kept up the act, moaning a little louder when he felt that she was baffled by Garth's responses. She jolted into action every time and nodded, swiftly ending the call. She got up to hand them a card.

"This will take you up to the sixty third floor, gentlemen. Dr. Grey is ready to see you. Sorry for the wait. He has promised to give you six percent discount."

Castiel smiled and nodded at her, cupping Dean's elbow and leading him to the elevators. He inserted the card in the slot to make the steel lock pull back for Dean and Castiel to enter.

They waited for a minute for an elevator. An elderly couple stepped out, nodding their heads politely towards Dean and Castiel. He held the card against the black box thing that was above the controls. The number sixty three came on display over the door and Dean pulled Castiel to a side for the other people to enter. Dean kept a hand over his cheek and small moans emitting from his mouth, until the elevator cleared up on the fifty fifth floor. Dean resumed keeping the hand on his cheek but his shoulders slumped with relief at finally being alone.

"Dean, we'll get into so much trouble, if he finds out! Which he will because there is no problem with your teeth," Castiel aggressed.

"Relax, would you? Look at these elevators, man," he said touching one wall of the elevator. "Just awesome."

Castiel rolled his eyes and stared stonily at the door. He led the way out on the sixty third floor. Dean pointed at one of the triangular windows, whistling lowly. The view was amazing but he was sure that it would be even better from the dentist's room.

Dr. Grey's secretary was a petite lady who led them to the man's room. Dean had almost forgotten to moan until Castiel nudged him in the ribs and Dean let out a cry. Rubbing his ribs and his cheek, he glared at Castiel who smiled victoriously and made small talk with the lady. It was painful to watch him make small talk.

"Do you have children?" Castiel asked, politely.

"Uh… No," she replied, frowning.

"Ah, I see. Do you commit yourself for long hours to the job?"

"Um, yes."

"That is good. Are pai-"

"Well, are we there yet, Miss Louise?" Dean questioned, loudly and trying to sound as if in pain.

"Almost there, sir," she said, opening the door at the end of the hallway.

Looking out through the ceiling high window at the end of the hallway, Dean whistled lowly again changing it into a groan as Louise looked back at him. He knew the view would be awesome. Damn, dentists and blown up prices.

"Ah, gentlemen," an elderly man greeted them.

He stood tall, as tall as Dean in the middle of his wood paneled office with the wall at the back, made completely out of glass. Dean felt his stomach drop, getting vertigo just from looking at the horizon. He felt Castiel kick his boot and he moaned a little, smiling apologetically at Dr. Grey.

Dr. Byron Grey brushed his salt-and-pepper hair out his piercing brown eyes. He gestured them towards the two plush swivelly chairs in front of his desk. Dean and Castiel took one each as Louise left, shutting the door behind her.

Dean noticed that the ornate table on the right was stacked with gifts and the glass cupboard on the right had a number of prescription tablets. The wooden walls were covered with numerous degrees and pictures with everyone ranging from the hottest star to President Obama. He barely managed to hold back his scoff.

"So, gentlemen, what seems to be the problem?" Dr. Grey asked, settling in huge throne-like swivelly chair.

"My tooth hurts," Dean told him through gritted teeth.

"Would you call it a continuous ache or a flickering one?" he questioned in a therapist voice, resting his square jaw on his palm with his elbow at the edge of the table.

"Flickering," Dean replied, quietly.

"I see," he said, getting up and rounding the table to stand in front of Dean. "If you could open your mouth?" he added.

"Don't you think, sir, you should wash your hands?" Castiel asked, suddenly.

Dr. Grey looked taken aback. He tilted his head, looking at Castiel.

"Um, of course. Anything for my patients," he said, vanishing into one of the doors on their right.

Dean clapped Castiel on the shoulder, grinning. Castiel froze, nodding towards the camera facing them from the top of the room. Dean let out a whistle.

"Well, I'll take the risk. We're on the most wanted slash dead list anyway," he told Castiel, tugging his arm.

Dean stopped a foot from the window but Castiel kept going on, entranced. He stared down, first. He felt like he was flying, the wind in his wings and the entire world below him. The entire world for him to visit. Now, he had his limitations. He realized, belatedly that Dean wasn't standing with him. He looked at the nervous set of shoulders.

Castiel smiled softly, holding his hand out for Dean. He stared at Castiel's hand, confused, but as thought catching on with the plan, he took his hand and Castiel pulled him forward, as close as he was to the window. Dean refused to look down.

By his sharp intake of breath, Castiel knew that Dean had finally ventured his eyes to look down. He squeezed Dean's hand.

"I won't let you fall," Castiel promised, staring into the distance.

Dean turned to look at him, his mouth open in an 'o'. All his life, he had taken care of people. People taking care of him felt awkward and weird because nothing ever lasted and everyone left. Dean knew he had issues. He knew his issues were the size of Mount Everest but it wasn't like his life had ever calmed down for him to let them get to him. He preferred running for them. It had worked for thirty four years of their life.

Castiel jumped into action when they heard the squeak of a boot. He took a pen from the stand and started scribbling a message. Dean stood over his shoulder to read it.

My friend's tooth stopped hurting. Sorry for wasting your time. Thank you.

Dean was impressed as Castiel pulled Dean out the door with a hand on his arm. They rushed through the halls and down the elevator.

"I'd never have thought of that, you know," he told Castiel in the elevator.

Castiel just smiled at the door and tugged him out when they reached the ground floor. They walked out, stumbling over their own feet; fighting the urge to run and the want to seem normal. They got out without any trouble from anyone but breathed only when they were safe inside the car.

Dean was pleased to see Castiel grin to himself, looking out the window.

Five minutes later, Dean parked near the Museum of Modern Arts.

Castiel stared at the black lettering.

"Dean," Castiel breathed, softly.

Dean just grinned at him. "Come on," he said, getting out of the car and leading Castiel into the museum.

He bought them two tickets. It felt weird being so honest in this. So this is what normal people felt everyday paying for things. Of course, Dean wasn't spending his own money. He shrugged off his own train of thought and got them a map from the information desk.

"So, Cas, where do you want to go? We gotta make it fast, man… I have a lot of places in mind for you," he told Castiel, pushing the map towards him.

Castiel stared open mouthed at Dean. "For me?" he asked, unbelieving.

"Yeah, Cas, you," he answered, smirking. "Now check the map out, man. I can't stand museums." He shuddered uncomfortably for good measure.

Seeing an inflow of a group of tourists, Dean led Castiel inside and waited with him beside the mobile tour desk. The young boy on the desk kept trying to catch Dean's attention and word vomit the details he had learnt for his job. Dean ignored him for all intents and purposes lingering with Castiel.

"I-I think we should visit the fifth floor, followed by the second one," he declared, a little hesitantly.

"Sure, Cas. But, first! We get gelato."

He had noticed the sign within a few minutes of standing there awaiting Castiel's exploration. Castiel chuckled and followed him inside. Castiel got a mango gelato and Dean got the deluxe sundae. He badgered Castiel all the way to the escalator to try the strawberry one. Castiel replied by flicking a bit of the mango gelato on his nose and taking a giant spoon of the strawberry gelato from him.

"Hey, no fair," Dean complained, frowning and stepping off on the sixth floor.

Dean busied himself in playing around and eating his gelato as Castiel looked around at the works Vincent Van Gogh, Claude Monet, Pablo Picasso and the likes. Whenever Castiel stopped to admire a sculpture or a painting and told Dean some snippet during the making of the work of art, Dean paid attention just like Castiel had earlier. He felt like he owed it to him. Besides, he learnt a couple of things. Like, why Vincent Van Gogh had cut off his ear and a few facts about the Starry Nights. Dean had just one question. Why was every guy's dick covered in the sculptures with a damn leaf? Castiel had just laughed and remained elusive about the answer.

They took the elevator down to the second floor. Castiel particularly enjoys the contemporary art and weird manuscripts from ages ago. Dean likes the media section, toying with everything he possibly could without getting into trouble and making weird noises with the gelato containers.

"Thank you, Dean," Castiel murmured, smilingly.

"Don't thank me yet," Dean replied, throwing the gelato containers in the dustbins after they came out.

Fifteen minutes later, packed full with Shake Shack's awesome Double SmokeShack burgers and a Hand-spun malted chocolate shakes each, they stood outside the American Museum of Natural History.

Castiel looked very enthusiastic as he looked at Dean. Well, as enthusiastic as he could look, his lips were bent as far as Dean had ever seen them go and his eyes were shining brightly, hooded by Castiel's hand under the sun.

Dean grinned back. "Let's go in, you giant dork."

Leading Castiel inside, Dean tells about how Sam had a giant nerdgasm when they got here. He wouldn't stop talking about the exhibits and the Romans. He had a Roman phase back then. Dean swore that the kid had just spent half an hour at the miniature Roman exhibit.

Dean appreciated the focus with which Castiel continued to listen to him babble. He did stare open mouthed at the Tyrannosaurus skeleton.

"Did you exist back then?" Dean asked, enraptured himself.

"No… I was created before the human race was," Castiel murmured, drifting towards the sign under the skeleton.

Dean repaid Castiel by listening to every snippet of information he provided throughout their trip. They visited every exhibit. Castiel took five minutes, standing before the Sacagawea exhibit and explaining the kids on tour there about how she was the strongest woman he had ever seen. She was one of the very first ones to be remembered as a woman to lead a man. The eight year olds listened in sweetly as the man in the trenchcoat told them passionately about the strength that God provided women with and how they shouldn't be misogynist. Dean was grinned, standing at the back of the group.

"Kind sir, may I know if Sacagawea hooked up with Theodore Roosevelt?" Dean asked, cheekily.

His grin faded as the teacher shepherded the kids away, glaring at Dean. Castiel just looked confused.

"No, Dean," he replied, patiently.

Dean laughed and patted his back. "It's a reference. I'll have to show you the Night at the Museum now."

They left an hour and a half later, Castiel armed with a Tyrannosaurus plushie and Dean carrying a Roman dude miniature toy for Sam from the souvenir shop. He guessed he could make fun of Sam for it.

"We should come back after midnight," Dean said, revving up the car and turning into the traffic.

"I don't understand that reference," Castiel told Dean, offhandedly, playing with his plushie.

Castiel had the dinosaur's paws resting on his chest and he was looking into his eyes intently. Dean grinned to himself and avoided the words like 'adorable' in his vocabulary.

"I'm taking you to taste the best pie of your life… Well, maybe not your life. But still. They're pretty good," Dean assured, swinging open the bright orange door.

He was met the amazing fragrance of bakery products. Even the cakes here were mouthwatering. The portly man at the desk looked up and greeted them.

They sat down on one of the wooden benches, picking up a menu from the desk.

Dean decided he wanted a slice of Apple pie, Chocolate Bourbon Pecan pie and Pumpkin pie. Castiel shrugged and asked for a Malted Milk Ball cupcake.

Between the two of them, they tried everything and decided that they loved the Chocolate Bourbon Pecan pie and the cupcake. Dean got both things packed in threes for their stay in the motel. Castiel begged for a couple more cupcakes, once he saw them lined up in the glass case. Dean chuckled got five more flavors, promising not to take a huge bite like he did with the Malted Milk Ball one.

Their last stop for the day was mostly for Dean's benefit, though he wouldn't agree if asked. He had already planned a trip to the Brooklyn Brewery back at the bunker. It was a Friday so the beers were available from six to eleven. It was around seven thirty that he finally parked in front of the Brewery.

He was seventeen when they first came to New York for a case. The creatures usually avoided big, famous places like New York. There was no good to come out from it since their crimes would get more publicity and hunters would recognize the signs.

John had read the news and took his sons to New York for a week. Reportedly a murderer was burning his victim to ashes and performing rituals with the ashes. Dean had taken Sam with him out into the city and they had found the Brooklyn Brewery a couple of blocks away from the dump motel they were staying in. It had still been very new then. Dean remembered it as the best beer he had ever had.

A week later, their father had figured that the sick killings were actually work of some nutjob human who wasn't even trying to raise any spirits or, well, was trying but not succeeding definitely.

Another seventeen years and Dean was back with his angel and best friend. Now, just his best friend, though.

"Get ready to taste the best beer of your life," Dean informed Castiel, getting out of the car.

Castiel smiled, lopsidedly and came to stand beside Dean, staring at the establishment.

"Dean?" Castiel murmured, turning to face him.

"Yeah?" Dean turned as well.

Castiel hugged him warmly. "Thank you so much."

"Don't mention it, Cas," Dean mumbled, reddening and hugging him back awkwardly.

Castiel pulled away in Dean's arms to smile at him. They were so close, closer than they ever had been. All Dean could see were his bright eyes and his slightly open chapped lips. Chapped but kissable. Fuck… That wasn't what he was supposed to think standing so close to him. He could feel every warm breath that Castiel exhaled, over his skin. It was setting his entire skin on fire. Before his thoughts could muddle up his mind more, he pulled away and blamed it on the excessive pie in his system.

A few boys coming out of the Brewery cat called.

Dean rolled his eyes at them and led Castiel inside the Brewery. It was a huge wooden room that looked like it hadn't been renovated much since the nineteen nineties but was polished and cleaned every day. It wasn't like the normal bars they visited. Everyone seemed less than drunk, though some were trying really hard. It wasn't as rowdy.

Dean led them to one of the park style benches which was still unoccupied. He got one of each one of the perennial bottled beers for the two of them. The barkeep, Kevin was a cheery large guy who kept winking at Castiel. Castiel winked back twice after drinking three beers. Dean laughed at the exchange, earning confused glances from Castiel.

After they had tasted all five beers, unanimously deciding that the East India Pale Ale was the best, Dean got the Black Chocolate Stout, Monster Ale (just because of the name), Oktoberfest and Pumpkin Ale. Castiel was a lightweight as a human, Dean figured out, and was in no position to pick beers for himself. He had spent fifteen minutes telling Dean that the Pumpkin Ale sounds like a Halloween beer.

Eight beers later, Castiel got up on his trembling feet. "Toilet," he announced, conspiratorially.

Dean nodded, tracing a cross over his heart with his finger. Castiel saluted and stumbled towards the toilet.

Even the toilets were terribly clean. Castiel stared at himself in the mirror and tried to stop himself from freaking out. Dean, Dean, Deanthrummed in his veins. He wasn't entirely sure what he was feeling but it had just become more intense since he had turned human. He required contact now. Human contact in the form of touches and hugs and, sometimes, kisses. It wasn't all consuming but it just seemed to intensify with Dean so close by. He wasn't an idiot. He knew how he felt about Dean. Nevertheless, it had been easier when he was angel. He could store the feelings away.

He hated being human. It was compromising. Huffing, he splashed water on his face. He shuddered under the coldness. Wiping his face on a handkerchief Sam had probably dropped into his coat, he looked at himself in the mirror. He felt a little more sober now and less likely to do something very stupid. Said very stupid thing might make him homeless. He decided he didn't like the idea very much.

He could still feel Dean's phantom touch on his back from the hugging. He groaned and hung his head; trying to control the alcohol induced stupid ideas in his mind. He closed his eyes. It felt like in the past few hours his mind had expanded into areas of entirely idiotic ideas that seemed extremely plausible and worthwhile at the moment. Fortunately, Castiel knew not to listen to them.

He scrunched his nose. It felt like the smoke from a man's cigarette he had accidentally taken in. He opened his eyes to see his face covered by black smoke. Immediately he knew what it was.

Later he'd say it was entirely his fault that the smoke managed to enter but it would have anyway, he just made it terribly easy by opening his mouth to shout. The smoke entered him, making him shudder with the force.

Instantly, he felt full up to the brim and rather close to exploding. He had no control over his own functions. He tried to scream but his reflection just smirked. He screamed loudly in his mind but he was shut up. The smoke seemed to be seeping into his brain, reading every thought, feeling he had ever had; open to all his memories.

He whimpered to himself at the thought. His body started moving outside.

DEAN! He tried to scream as the man came into view.

He tried to show him panic through his eyes but his body blinked and cracked his neck. He hoped that Dean would realize how he would never do that. He didn't even know his could do that.

What? Blink? His mind asked him. It was a woman's voice.

Castiel jumped (internally). No, cracking my neck. Leave me alone. I'm an Angel. He was disappointed to hear the pleading edge to his tone.

The voice in his head just laughed and smiled at Dean. Dean looked a little confused but smiled back. The demon seemed to be in complete control of the situation, not stumbling at all.

"The water helped," he told Dean, schooling his voice to a little lower pitch.

Dean grinned and nodded. "Good job, Cas. Let's just take this beer back with a couple more for Sam and head to the motel?"

The demon, Bela, as Castiel found out, grinned at Dean and nodded.

"Good to see you, Dean," Bela said, slurring a little.

Dean laughed. "Good to see you too, Cas. Let's go."

* * *

Notes: Okay, so the Chrysler building was an idea by Kris, my awesome RP partner and friend. :D  
Everything else: Sorry if my details are skewed. My only research was Google maps, their official sites and a couple more sites but I couldn't get any proper pictures and the entire thing with the Chrysler building is just my brainchild. I'm pretty sure it doesn't even work. :B  
Okay, please comment if you enjoyed this chapter. Thank you. :)


End file.
